My piece today is titled “Lipstadt vs. Jew-Hatred.” Who is “Lipstadt”? I am speaking of Deborah E. Lipstadt, the veteran historian who studies antisemitism, Holocaust denial, etc. Today, she is a State Department official — an ambassador at large, whose title is a bit of a mouthful: “special envoy to monitor and combat antisemitism.” What about this jarring term “Jew-hatred”? It derives from the old Judenhass. And Professor Lipstadt prefers it, in a way, to “antisemitism.” For one thing, it’s blunter.
Anyway, extraordinary woman. Get to know her a little, in my piece, here.
I would like to publish one piece of mail. It does not respond to my piece today. But it is related. In a recent column, I cited an ad that aired during the Super Bowl. A family has been the victim of antisemitic vandalism. Someone has daubed a swastika, etc., on the family’s garage door. A neighbor does the job of painting it over.
I’m not doing this ad justice (and I’m not sure “ad” is the word). To watch it, go here.
A reader writes,
Jay:
Some background. My great-great-grandfather immigrated from Germany to Independence (Washington County), Texas, in 1847. He worked there for three years as an indentured servant to a prosperous landowner. After his servitude, he received $300 in gold.
My 2X grandfather invested the gold by buying 300 acres of land, and he set about farming and becoming politically active. The German immigrants in Texas were firm abolitionists, so it was no surprise that William became a Confederate deserter. Later, he was elected to the first post-Reconstruction Texas house as a radical — you know, one of those who believed that freed slaves should vote, own property, etc. Family lore recalls that the Lutheran church he helped found was burned one night in the early 20th century — by men wearing cloaks, who didn’t like that services at the church were held in German.
His descendants were all like him, as are many of the folks in that part of Texas today — hard-working conservatives with a libertarian bent. My grandfather was that way. His favorite fishing buddy was a black man, and I remember his stories of his friend Gus, one of the few Jews in town. Grandpa Otto would smuggle Gus into the Elks club so they could enjoy card games together.
Of my five running buddies growing up in Austin, one was Jewish and the rest of us were Protestants. We went to our friend’s bar mitzvah and he came to our confirmations.
I learned about the perils of intolerance at the knees of both my grandfathers, but especially Grandpa Otto’s. I didn’t see the “garage ad” during the Super Bowl, but I’m grateful you posted it today. I got some tears, and was thankful for my family legacy. I hope I have the courage to paint over a garage when necessary.
Oh, he’d do it in a heartbeat.